The gladiator fights for this game were supposed to be a showcase. The various ludii in Romachia spent a lot of time training new gladiators and this was their chance to present them to the public with much lower risk. Usually, novicii were set against the beasts for their first fight to weed out the weak ones. Felix spent twice as long preparing his, however. And then they spent another year or so training to compete in the staged and mercy fights. It was smart planning—more events could be held while giving the gladiators more chances to develop their skills and gain popularity with the crowd.

  Because the crowd's love was sometimes the only thing that kept a gladiator from death. Or the very thing that condemned them.

  "Let's see if we can guess the next stars," Saturnia exclaimed as she shifted to the edge of our bench. I knew she was trying to distract me. And herself.

  The mock fights had begun. Three happened at a time—one on each end of the arena and one in the middle. Before us, two retiarii faced each other, one with a crimson shield and the other with gold and black on theirs. Each was armed with a trident and a net, small weights dotting the edges. Their steps were choreographed, but they moved together so naturally.

  "Oh, they're good," I said, nudging Saturnia.

  She looked away from the scuffle on the right. “Crimson or the gold one? I like the way Gold holds his shaft.”

  I snickered. “Of course you do.”

  Their nets were narrower than usual to help with the performance. The one she named Crimson spun it on the ground until it twisted together into a rope. He whipped it at his opponent, hard enough that the sharp crack punched through the air. The second gladiator, Gold, danced, spinning and weaving around the stinging end of the make-shift whip.

  The battle shifted.

  He went on the offensive, swinging the net at his opponents feet, forcing Crimson to jump over. Then again over the ducking head. In the final pass, Gold reversed the trident in his hands and wrapped the net around the shaft. Taking a running leap, the gladiator soared into the air, twisting his body to sling the net at Crimson. It slid off the shaft, like the striking of a coiled snake. But it was glanced off the shoulder guard.

  When Gold landed, a counterattack with the net was already cast. He caught the ends and spun into it, as if caught, before flinging up. The net was suspended in the sky for a moment, a web of death. Crimson used the moment as a distraction to snap his trident against his opponent's throat.

  They stood there, chests heaving, as the spectators howled in approval. We screamed along.

  "That was amazing!" Saturnia shouted, jumping up and down.

  It didn't matter who was scheduled to win or lose, except to the gamblers. But for the gladiators, what mattered was how creative they could be. How well they moved and handled their weapons. How theatrical they could make their performance to capture the crowd. And these two had played to all of it spectacularly.

  "That's going to be a tough performance to beat,” she continued.

  "I wonder which ludus they're part of and if they could be convinced to join ours. We are the best, after all," I said smugly.

  "Max, acting like you did anything to help train the gladiators?" She slapped my arm, giggling. "Don't tell me you're going to start recruiting for Felix."

  I lifted my nose into the air like a stuck-up patrician. "Another successful business idea you're missing out on."

  A few more staged fights happened, although not as eye-catching as the first round. Several were more brutal, however—or rather, less controlled. More than one gladiator limped away with injuries.

  But when the mercy fights began, nervous energy flooded me. I couldn't stop my leg from bouncing while wondering if this was how gladiators felt waiting for their time. These matches lasted until someone surrendered or the judge called for mercy. Sometimes the magistrate stepped forward with a decision if he felt so compelled, his thumb commanding the gasp of every spectator. And sometimes, accidents happened—intentionally or not.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  Death was always a risk.

  Two thraeces, just like Quintus, walked out first. Greaves covered their legs and a protective belt circled each of their torsos. Their helmets had both a crest and a visor, along with a single plume on one side. In their hands was a small shield and a sica, their signature curved short sword. I had seen it catch gladiator after gladiator off guard, reaching around to rip through the exposed back.

  Their opponent came next. The murmillo's bronze helmet was wide-brimmed like a fish fin with a red crest. An ornate grill covered his face. He raised up his scutum, the large rectangular shield spanning over half his height length, and banged his sword against it. Unlike the sica, the gladius was a traditional straight blade. Several leather pieces protected his body, including scaled armor on his sword arm.

  The three saluted the magister before turning to face each other.

  "So who are you betting on, Sat?"

  She narrowed her eyes as she studied them, turning serious. "I haven't seen them fight yet, but those two seem to know each other well and will fight well together. But the murmillo looks like he's at the ready but at ease."

  "He does seem pretty confident," I agreed. There was a controlled looseness to his movement.

  "Um, I'll go with the pair. Also because they look so attractive in those helmets." It was my turn to slap her arm, but her face was unapologetic. "What can I say? I know what I like," she stated, reaching up to adjust her hair.

  The pair had leapt forward in unison as we bickered, but the murmillo did an excellent job of keeping them both within eyesight. They kept trying to circle around and flank him, but he swiveled as he backed up, holding his gladius out to the side as a deterrent.

  Then the murmillo charged forward abruptly. He bashed one thraex with his shield, who was thrown back to hit the ground before scrambling back in a panic. But the murmillo had used the opening to slash and overwhelm the partner.

  The standing thraex was caught off guard. He dodged just in time, earning only a thin slice down his arm. Only to be trapped between the murmillo's body and his shield, with a sword digging into his neck.

  It happened so quickly the other one hadn't even finished standing back up. The judge called for mercy and the thraex stumbled away on shaking legs before collapsing. He rolled onto his back, a hand on his chest.

  Beside me, Saturnia groaned and I smirked. "Looks like you listened to the wrong gut."

  The two remaining fighters circled each other. The last thraex darted forward, feinting towards the sword. When the murmillo tarted to turn, he whirled around the unwieldy shield and tried to hook the sica around to slash at his opponent's hand. I could only guess the goal was to make him drop it and be exposed.

  But the murmillo was too quick. He tilted his shield edge against his shoulder, trapping the intruding arm. Then he raised his gladius and slammed the hilt down. A crack resounded through the air, followed by the thraex's howl. He fell down with his arm bent in the wrong place, dropping his sword. The murmillo pointed his blade and the judge called the match as the crowd chanted his name.

  I turned and flicked Saturnia on the forehead. "At least they're hot, right?"

  She rubbed her forehead sheepishly. "The helmets are doing all the work anyway," she mumbled and I laughed.

  The next several fights were longer, and for a while I forgot about what was coming next until I saw Praxedes and Corvus step into the arena for the final fight of the day. The fight everyone was waiting for.

  The Magnus twins actually specialized in two gladiator types. Today, Praxedes was fighting as a cestus. Leather strips wrapped around her hands to fasten serrated metal spikes—half a finger in length—to her knuckles. She had also been allowed a small dagger while light armor covered her limbs and chest. Her helmet was minimal, a visor and a plume standing proudly on each side. Corvus had a similarly styled helmet to the murmillo, wide-rimmed and crested. He wielded two swords as a dimachaerius. But unlike others, he mixed a sica and a gladius.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my pounding heart. "Gods, I almost can't watch," I confessed.

  Praxedes shook out her limbs as they stood before the magister. She was muscular, although not as heavily as her brother.

  "People of Romachia!" announced the magistrate. "After a day filled with excitement and unexpected victories, we find ourselves at the last gladiator fight. Our beloved Magnus twins have triumphed again and again on these sands. But this time they will be fighting a new opponent, a surprise we gift to you.”

  A murmur arose from the spectators.

  "This fateful afternoon, we will see if they have what it takes to defeat an opponent that's never been faced before in Aeterna!" His hands swept down to the entrance below him. "Introducing the ferocious warrior brothers from Solis—Eztli and ItzCoyotl!"

  The crowd erupted in frenzied excitement and I gripped the balcony so tightly my knuckles turned white.

  A scream cut through the air, silencing the amphitheater. It was blood-curdling and inhuman, a spectre in a wind straight from the underworld.